


Save Me From Myself

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gun Violence, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: You are being hunted by HYDRA and Bucky has been tasked with keeping you safe. Problem is, the two of you have a history.





	1. Part One

 

“No.”

“Bucky -”

“I said no, Steve,” Bucky shook his head, emphasizing his point. “I can’t do it.”

“It’s not up for debate,” Steve said. “We need somebody to escort her out of D.C. Tony, Nat, and Clint are in Wakanda, and Sam and I are heading to San Francisco to meet with Hank Pym and Scott. It has to be you.”

“What about Wanda or Vision? Rhodes?” Bucky pushed a hand through his hair.

“Not available. It’s you or no one. And we can’t leave her on her own. Not with HYDRA out to get her.”

“I can’t do it -”

“No,” Steve interrupted him, “it’s not that you can’t, it’s that you don’t want to. I know Y/N pushes every button you have, I know what she did to you. Or tried to do to you. But we need her to bring down HYDRA. We need to keep her safe. It’s not that tough, Buck. You go to New York and escort her to the compound. Easy.”

“What happens when I get her here?” Bucky sighed, resigned to his fate.

“Make sure she stays put,” Steve ordered. “She is not to set one foot off of the grounds. Period. If you have to spend twenty-four hours a day with her, you do it.”

“Steve -”

“That’s an order, Sergeant,” Steve snapped, effectively ending the conversation. He spun on his heel and was out the door before Bucky could say another word.

“God damn it,” Bucky muttered under his breath. He contemplated going after Steve, arguing with him, maybe try to get him to see reason, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. His best friend had made up his mind. 

Bucky was going to D.C. to escort a woman he pretty much despised out of the city. His fist clenched, the water bottle he’d been holding crushed to oblivion. He dropped it to the floor as he stomped out of the room.

* * *

You paced in a circle around the hotel room, your skin crawling with the need to move. You hated being cooped up, hated being locked up, but you hadn’t been given a choice.

Agent Hill had put you in this room, two armed guards at the door, and she had refused to let you leave. HYDRA was on your ass; you had become enemy number one as far as they were concerned. Of course it was inevitable. You knew the location of every HYDRA agent in the world, the information literally at your fingertips. On top of that, you’d gone rogue, turned on the organization you’d once staunchly supported. The only person in the world you trusted, the only person you could turn to, had been Maria Hill. She’d promised to protect you, promised to get you out of D.C., get you somewhere safe. 

Which was why you were sitting in a stuffy hotel room, a room you hadn’t left in more than a week. The fresh flowers in the vase by the door were two days dead, the mini bar was empty, the trash cans full, sheets rumpled, the television playing some mind-numbing movie. You were on the verge of insanity.

The phone on the bedside table rang, startling you. You lunged across the bed and snatched it up.

“Hello,” you mumbled.

“Y/N? It’s Agent Hill. Pack your things. Your escort will be arriving in less than an hour.”

“Where am I going?” you asked.

“The Avengers compound in upstate New York,” Hill replied.

“What?” you gasped. “No, I can’t go there.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Hill said. “It’s the safest place for you. Be ready in an hour.” The call disconnected.

You slammed the phone down and dragged in a deep breath. “Fuck me,” you grumbled.

Going to the Avenger’s compound meant the possibility of seeing  _ him _ . Just the thought made your blood run cold. You couldn’t dwell on the thought for too long or you would lose your mind. You pushed yourself to your feet, hurrying to pack your belongings now strewn across the room, forcing yourself not to think about him. 

You didn’t succeed.

* * *

Bucky pulled his hat lower, attempting to obscure his face. Being recognized as a member of the Avengers was a pain in the ass. Some days he missed the anonymity of the Winter Soldier. He strode down the hallway, cursing under his breath. He’d tried to prepare himself for seeing Y/N after so many years, but he didn’t feel as if he’d succeeded. He was on edge, his nerves raw, his senses heightened, every step bringing him closer to a woman he’d once loved but now despised. Life had a way of turning on you and biting you in the ass. If anyone knew that, it was him.

The armed guards came into view, Maria Hill standing between them. He squared his shoulders as he came to a stop in front of them.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she nodded.

“Agent Hill,” he replied.

“The package is Y/N Y/L/N,” Hill said, straightening up, her hand on the doorknob.

“I know who she is, Agent Hill,” Bucky snapped. “In fact, I’m quite familiar with her.”

“Oh, really?” Hill asked, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised.

Bucky chose to ignore the inquiry. He crossed his arms and stared at Agent Hill. “Why isn’t she in prison?” he asked. “She’s a member of HYDRA.”

“So were you.” Hill snapped. She blew out an agitated breath. “She’s going to help us. She knows the location of every HYDRA agent in the world. If we protect her, she’ll give them up.”

“I should have known,” he mumbled. “She’ll do anything to protect herself. Anything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Bucky shook his head. “Let’s get this over with.”

Agent Hill used a key card to open the door and stepped inside, Bucky directly behind her. Y/N’s eyes widened and she stumbled back a few steps.

“Wh-what’s he doing here?” she stammered, pointing at Bucky.

“He’s taking you to the Avengers compound,” Hill explained.

“No,” she muttered. “Absolutely not. I can’t go with him.”

“You don’t have any choice,” Hill said. “You have to go now and Sergeant Barnes is taking you.”

“But -”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Bucky cut her off. “But it is what it is. Let’s go.” He snatched a duffle bag off the floor and took off down the hall without even a glance back.

* * *

You followed Bucky down the hall, wondering if there was some way you could get out of this, some way you could get away from the super soldier in front of you. You could survive on your own, you knew you could. You might not be a trained assassin, but you could get yourself off the grid, hide yourself where no one would ever find you, not even HYDRA. Anything was better than being forced to be with Bucky. Anything.

You were surprised when Bucky turned abruptly and climbed up the stairs, going up rather than down to the lobby. He came out on the roof and marched purposefully across it to a quinjet. Not once did he look back to see if you were behind him, and if it hadn’t been for Agent Hill following you, you wouldn’t have been. 

Bucky hit a button, opening the back door of the jet, tossing your bag to the floor as he climbed aboard and made his way to the pilot’s seat. You slipped into an empty seat and buckled your seat belt. Agent Hill boarded as well, coming to a stop in front of you.

“Isn’t there any place else I can go?” you whispered, peering around her at Bucky.

“No,” she shook her head. “No place safe enough anyway. The Avengers compound is the only place we can protect you. The only place.” She turned her back on you and made her to the front of the jet, leaned over and whispered something in Bucky’s ear, then she was gone.

The jet started, taking off from the platform on the roof with a jolt before evening out. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, feigning sleep, hoping to avoid conversation of any kind. Not that you thought Bucky would talk to you; you hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms; honestly, he was probably more likely to kill you than he was to talk to you. If only you could rewind time and fix what you’d broken.

Unfortunately, there was no going back.

* * *

**_Two Years Earlier_ **

_ You came awake slowly, the voice in the background pulling you from sleep. You rolled to your side, tugged the sheet up to your shoulder, and reached for the man sharing your bed. _

_ He wasn’t there. _

_ “She’s sleeping,” you heard him mutter. _

_ You sat up, the sheet pooling in your lap, the cool air bringing goosebumps to the surface of your bare skin. You were a bit rusty when it came to understanding Russian - it had been a long time - but you could still understand most of what Bucky was saying. _

_ “She doesn’t have to -” You heard him sigh heavily before continuing. “She doesn’t know anything.” _

_ You scrubbed a hand over your face. What was he talking about? _

_ Bucky cleared his throat and his tone changed, becoming harsh, cold, almost inhuman. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir. It will be soon,” he said. “By morning.”  _

_ He came out of the bathroom, shirtless, the scars where his arm connected to his shoulder stark white in the pale moonlight, his face hard, unforgiving.  _

_ “Bucky?” you whispered. _

_ He didn’t respond, just tossed the phone in his hand onto the dresser, and then he was in the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his mouth covering yours, the kiss like none you’d ever shared before, the sex like nothing you’d ever experienced. When it was over, you laid wrapped in his arms, spent, exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open. _

_ Despite all of that, sleep was a long time coming. _

* * *

The knowledge that she was only a few feet away from him, that he was in the presence of the woman he’d once loved, was eating away at his gut, making his hands shake, his head hurt, his  _ heart _  hurt. 

Nothing had changed. The second he’d laid eyes on her, he’d wanted her. He’d felt that familiar ache in his lower gut, felt that need for her building and building until he thought it would consume him.

Bucky had to fight the urge to turn around and look at her, fight the urge to let his hunger for her make him stupid. He had to remember this was a mission, that his only responsibility was to keep her safe from HYDRA. That was it, no personal feelings needed to factor into it.

He had to forget that he’d loved her, forget that his feelings for her had been strong enough to fight against his programming, forget that he’d been ready to protect her no matter the cost, including his life. All of that was in the past. It had been two years since he’d seen her, touched her, made love to her. Every one of those moments was permanently etched into his brain. 

Of course, none more so than the moment she’d tried to kill him.

* * *

**_Two Years Earlier_ **

_ The cold steel pressed to forehead was what dragged him from sleep. He slowly opened his eyes. Y/N was straddling him, his gun in her hand. She was holding it against his head, her hands shaking, tears streaming down her face. _

_ “How could you?” she whispered. _

_ “What the fuck are you talking about, Y/N?” he growled. _

_ “You were going to kill me,” she sobbed. “I looked at your phone, I saw the messages, heard the voicemails. How could you, Bucky? I loved you.” _

_ Bucky opened his mouth, wanting to explain, to make her understand. It was a mission, a mission that had become something it was never meant to be. Things had changed, things were different. He wanted out and he wanted to take her with him. All of that ran through his head in a matter seconds, and he was going to tell her, going to make her understand, but she didn’t give him a chance. _

_ “I don’t think you’ll heal from a bullet to the brain,” Y/N murmured. She moved, the gun sliding down his chest to rest over his sternum. “Or better yet, your heart. You can’t heal if your heart is shredded to pieces. Kind of like mine.” Another sob escaped her even as she flicked off the gun’s safety and tightened her grip on the handle. _

_ He moved lightning fast, his left hand coming up to knock the gun aside as she fired, the bullet burying itself deep in his right shoulder. Y/N tumbled off the bed, hurriedly scrambling to her feet. He was right behind her, flinging himself off of the bed and snatching the gun off the floor. She spun around, sprinting for the bedroom door, flinging it open, and disappearing down the hall. _

_ Bucky struggled to his feet, but he was weak, blood pouring out of him, running down his side, dripping on the floor. He only managed to take a couple of steps before he was falling to his knees, screaming Y/N’s name. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was a door slamming closed. _

* * *

“Arriving at Avengers Compound in five minutes.”

The automated voice pulled Bucky from his memories, memories he’d been hoping to avoid. He busied himself getting the quinjet ready to land, checking the controls, disengaging the automatic pilot, and taking control of the quinjet. He dropped the jet onto the roof of the compound and waited as it opened and lowered the machine inside. He waited while it powered down, then he unbuckled his seatbelt and rose to his feet. He picked up your duffle bag and tossed it on your lap.

“Follow me.”

He didn’t wait for her, just strode down the ramp, hurrying through the compound to the living quarters. He led her to one of the rooms at the end of the hall, as far from his room as possible, shoved open the door, and pointed inside. She scurried past him, kicking the door closed behind herself.

Bucky sighed and yanked his phone out of his jacket pocket. He punched a button and waited. Steve answered after two rings.

“Is she still alive, Buck?” he joked.

“Very funny,” Bucky grumbled.

“Seriously, though, how’d it go?” Steve inquired.

“Fine. She’s alive and in one piece.” He spent a few minutes describing their uneventful trip and arrival at the compound.

“Now what?” he said.

“Keep her safe until she testifies,” Steve replied. “HYDRA wants her dead. We can’t let anything happen to her. I know this isn’t easy for you, Buck, but it’s only for a couple of days. Sam and I will be back by the weekend.”

“Aye, aye, Cap,” he snarled.

“Later, Sarge,” Steve laughed.

* * *

You lasted about an hour in the guest room Bucky had stashed you in before he’d disappeared. You’d been pacing most of that hour. You’d tried watching TV, tried reading a book, even tried to sleep, but you’d been wound too tight, completely on edge, fidgety, nervous. And you were starving. So, you yanked open the door and made your way down the hall, hoping to come across a kitchen or something. It took a while, several stops and restarts, and a good five minutes in which you were pretty sure you were lost before you found a great room with a kitchen, several comfortable looking couches and chairs, as well as a big screen TV.

“Food,” you sighed, your eyes drawn to the refrigerator in the corner.

“Good evening, Ms. Y/L/N,” a disembodied, female, slightly Scottish voice said.

You squeaked and spun around, trying to see who had spoken. The room was empty.

“Who said that?” you muttered.

“My name is Friday,” the voice said. “I run the compound.”

“Stark’s invention?” you asked.

“Mr. Stark programmed me, yes,” Friday responded. You can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “May I help you with something?”

“I was looking for food,” you said, pointing at the refrigerator. You mentally chastised yourself for gesturing at an appliance when you were talking to an inanimate, disembodied voice.

“There are implements for making a sandwich in the refrigerator,” Friday said helpfully. 

You made your way across the room, pulled stuff from out for a sandwich, as well as a Coke shoved in the back behind some fruit and vegetables. You’d just opened it and taken a long swallow when Bucky strode into the room, his brows furrowed and his fists clenched at his side.

“Where have you been?” he growled.

“Right here,” you snapped.

“No, you haven’t,” he grumbled. “I checked in here several times, couldn’t find you.”

“I got lost,” you shrugged. “This place is huge.”

“I can attest to that, Sergeant Barnes,” Friday added helpfully. “Ms. Y/L/N was wandering the complex, swearing frequently because she kept getting turned around.”

“Don’t wander,” he ordered, rolling his eyes. “I don’t trust you alone.” He dropped to the couch, picked up a magazine, and began violently flipping the pages. 

“You don’t trust me at all,” you muttered.

Bucky slowly set the magazine down beside him and returned to his feet. He crossed the room in a few short strides, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the kitchen. He planted both hands firmly on the marble countertop, leaned over it, and stared into your eyes.

“You tried to kill me,” he snarled.

“ _ You _  were going to kill me,” you countered. “I was protecting myself.”

“You don’t know anything,” Bucky scoffed.

The wall of glass behind him suddenly exploded, sending knife-like shards of glass flying through the room. Bucky dove across the counter and tackled you to the floor, shielding you with his body.

“Friday?” he shouted.

“HYDRA agents, Sergeant Barnes,” the computerized voice responded. “Ten total, swarming the compound. Only two outside, the remainder are coming in here.”

“Put out a distress call, Friday,” Bucky snapped. He yanked a small container from his pocket, popped it open, and slid a communicator into his right ear. “And get me the quickest route out of here.”

You assumed that the computer responded, though you could no longer hear her, because Bucky was nodding and checking his sight lines. He yanked open one of the cabinets beneath the counter and pulled out a gun. “Stay here,” he demanded before he vanished around the end of the counter.

You curled in on yourself, your arms around your knees, head down. The sound of gunshots filled the room, and you couldn’t stop the whimper of fear that flew out of your mouth. You heard incoherent shouting, voices calling your name, and more gunfire. You wrapped your arms around your head, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

A rough hand took a hold of your upper arm, another twisted in you hair, and you were roughly dragged to your feet. You stumbled backwards, slapping and clawing at whoever was holding you.

“Bucky!” you screamed.

The super soldier swung around, a grim look on his face. He was grappling with another man, but the second he heard you scream his name, his metal hand closed around the man’s throat, squeezing until he went limp. Bucky tossed him aside like a rag doll, scooped up the gun from the floor, and rushed toward you. He aimed and took two shots, both of them hitting the man that was holding you in the head. He dropped to the floor, pulling you down with him.

Bucky pushed him aside, grabbed you, easily lifting you and throwing you over his shoulder. He took off at a dead run, making his way through the compound to where they’d left the quinjet. He set you on the floor of the jet and hit a button to raise the ramp.

“Friday! Start the jet and open the roof! We need to get out of here, NOW!” Bucky shouted as he made his way to the front of the jet. It was almost up and out of the compound when the first bullets struck it, drawing another startled scream from you. You pushed yourself to your feet and hurried to one of the windows, watching the HYDRA agents fade away as the jet rose into the night sky.

 


	2. Part Two

 

“Buck! Where are you?” Steve was yelling, loud enough to make Bucky cringe. He ripped the communicator from his ear and tossed it aside, then he hit the button on the console and Steve’s voice filled the small space.

He punched a few more buttons before answering his best friend’s question. He’d been on autopilot since leaving the compound, his only goal to get as far away from the HYDRA agents as possible. He hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going, flying blind.

“Looks like somewhere over Pennsylvania,” Bucky replied.

“Alright, we can work with that,” Steve said. “Hold on.” Bucky could hear Steve talking to someone else, though not what they were saying. He waited impatiently, his foot tapping, fingers squeezing the throttle tight enough to make the metal groan under the pressure. “There’s a safe house in Virginia, Clint said it wasn’t burned. I’m sending the coordinates to you right now. Sam and I will meet you there as soon as we can get out of San Francisco.”

“Copy. Now can someone tell me how the fuck HYDRA got in the compound?” Bucky muttered. “Got on the grounds for that matter?”

“Friday’s looking into it,” Steve explained. “She’ll figure it out. How’s Y/N?”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder. Y/N was lying across the seats in the back, a blanket tucked around her, nothing visible save for the top of her head. He’d forgotten she slept like that.

“Fine, I guess,” he replied. “Alive.”

Steve sighed, but he kept whatever comment he wanted to make to himself. “Get to the safe house and lay low. We’ll get there as soon as we can.” The call disconnected, the coordinates coming through a few seconds later. He recalibrated the flight plan, noting that it would take less than a half an hour to get to their destination.

It occurred to him that he should check on Y/N, see if she was doing alright. But he didn’t, he stayed where he was, watching the ground pass beneath the bottom of the quinjet until he was able to ease it into a stand of trees, hiding it from prying eyes. By the time they were settled, Y/N was stirring behind him.

“Where are we?” she asked, tossing the blanket she’d been using to the side and rising to her feet.

“Virginia,” Bucky answered. “Come on.” He checked the gun tucked in his jacket, hit a button to power down the jet, and gestured for Y/N to follow him.

The cabin was surrounded by trees crowding in on every side, effectively hiding it from prying eyes. Bucky knelt at the door and quickly picked the lock, gesturing for her to go inside once it was open. He slammed it shut and threw the deadbolt. He hit something, a table or a chair, he wasn’t sure which, thanks to the room being pitch black; no light filtered in at all. The lights flared on, temporarily blinding him. He squinted, taking in his surroundings.

Y/N was standing in an archway between the living room and kitchen, her hand on a light switch; off to his left was a bedroom and beside that, a bathroom. There was a ratty couch and chair, a pockmarked coffee table and matching end table, and a tattered area rug thrown over the floor. The only door was the one they’d just come through and there were only two windows with their curtains drawn, one by the door and one over the kitchen sink. As safe houses went, this one was pretty good.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Y/N lower herself to the couch, her head in her hands. Her hair was a tangled mess, there were small cuts up and down her arms, as well as a few on her face. She had dark purple circles under her eyes, and she was pale as a ghost. He wasn’t sure how she was still upright.

“You okay?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not feeling so well,” she said. “My head hurts, I’m exhausted, and I haven’t eaten in forever.” She shivered and hugged herself.

The urge to pick her up and wrap his arms around her, warm her with his body, to hold her close, rushed through him. He resisted it and marched past her into the kitchen, making a show of opening and closing the cupboards and refrigerator. To his surprise, they were fully stocked with food. He started yanking things out and tossing them to the countertop.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up?” he muttered. “I’ll make some food.”

* * *

You pulled on the sweatshirt and sweatpants you’d found in the bottom drawer of the dresser in the bedroom, then you rubbed a towel over your damp hair. You’d hoped a hot shower would warm you, but you were still shivering. In fact, you couldn’t stop.

The smell of eggs and toast wafted from the other room, making you salivate. You pushed yourself to your feet, wobbling slightly, catching yourself on the edge of the door before continuing out into the small living room. There was a plate sitting on the coffee table, along with a full glass of what looked like orange juice. Bucky was sitting in the chair, shoveling food into his mouth, gun tucked against his leg. He didn’t even glance your way when you sat down.

You ate quietly, staring off into space, suffocating under the silence. There was no radio, no television, nothing to keep the two of you occupied, nothing to keep the silence thickening into an unbearable mixture of fear, shame, hatred, confusion, and despair. It was making your skin crawl. You ate quickly, hoping to escape, to hide away in the bedroom. The sooner you finished eating, the sooner that could happen.

When you were both done eating, you rose to your feet, plucked the plate from Bucky’s hands, and took it to the kitchen, along with yours. You filled the sink with hot, soapy water and dumped the dishes into it.

You scrubbed at the dishes, desperately trying not to think about the man sitting only a few feet away from you. Being this close to him made your skin crawl, though not in a bad way. Being this close to him reminded you of how much you had loved him, how much you had needed him. But it also reminded you that you’d had to practically kill him to get away from him.

“Why did you do it?”

You jumped, a muted squeak coming from you. You swallowed back the panic you felt rising in your chest and forced yourself to breathe.

“Why did I do what?” you asked, though you were fairly confident you knew the answer.

“Why did you try to kill me?” Bucky said.

“You were going to kill me, Bucky,” you sighed, repeating your earlier mantra. “I was protecting myself.”

“I wasn’t going to kill you,” he snapped. “I was in love with you.”

“But, you were sent to kill me,” you argued. “HYDRA sent you to kill me. I knew too much and they wanted me gone. So they sent you. You tricked me into loving you, when your only plan was to destroy me.”

“I was sent to watch over you,” Bucky corrected. “Keep an eye on you. They ordered me to kill you, yes, but I had no intention of doing it.”

“God damn it!” you screamed, spinning around and throwing the knife in your hand, pulled from the sink of dishes, embedding it in the wall, just inches from Bucky’s head. “Don’t lie to me!”

He didn’t even flinch, not even a little. His bright blue eyes widened, taking in the the knife still wobbling beside his ear, then he took two steps across the small kitchen, grabbed your wrist and wrenched your arm behind your back.

“Jesus, Y/N, what the hell are you thinking?” He yanked you toward him, not hard, but hard enough for you to stumble forward, falling against him.

“You’re lying to me, Bucky! You were going to kill me, toss me aside like I meant nothing to you.” You tried to wrench free of his grip, but his hand was an iron vise, literally, and you couldn’t move.

“Trust me, Y/N, if I’d wanted to kill you, I would have,” he growled. “You never would have lived long enough to put a bullet in me. Never.”

Something inside of you snapped and you ripped yourself free of Bucky’s grip, falling backwards and hitting the counter. He followed you, pulling you back into his arms, tight against his chest. You tried to push him away, but when that didn’t work, you balled your hands into fists and hit him, screaming incoherently, the words coming out of your mouth not even making sense to you, screaming about lies, and love, and inconsistencies.

None of this made sense, none of it. He was lying, he had to be lying. Because if he wasn’t, you had tried to kill the man you loved.

“You need to calm down, Y/N,” he grumbled. “This is ridiculous -”

Your anger was an all-consuming entity and before you realized what you were doing, the sound of a slap resonated through the tiny kitchen, Bucky’s head rocking to one side.

The expression on his face was unreadable. His hands were on your upper arms and before you could even draw in a breath, he was dragging you up his chest, kissing you roughly. He lifted you, pulling your legs around his waist, and stumbling a few feet to the kitchen counter. He set you on it, his hands splayed across your back, tugging up your shirt, his metal hand surprisingly warm against your soft skin.

“Bucky,” you gasped.

“You don’t understand, doll,” he growled, his voice thick with unquestionable need and something else you couldn’t describe. “If anything had ever happened to you…” He caught your lips in his, bruising, needy, wanting. “It would have killed me to hurt you, destroyed me. I would never have hurt you. I couldn’t.” His tongue sank into your mouth, a deep, slow kiss that caused an ache right between your legs, a kiss that brought all of it back - every memory, every feeling, every thing you’d ever felt for the man now standing between your legs, holding you in his arms.

Bucky shoved his hand between your bodies, sliding it past the waistband of the sweatpants, his middle finger slowly caressing the lips of your pussy. He lifted you easily, the arm around your waist holding you tight against him, his finger pushing into you.

You moaned, your head falling to his shoulder. He kissed your neck hungrily, slipping another finger in beside the first, twisting them just right until you moaned again. So, he did it again, hitting the perfect spot, a gasp of pleasure leaving you.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his strong masculine scent, riding out the sensations he was pulling from you. He had two fingers deep inside of you, pumping them in and out, brushing over your sweet spot each time he dragged them free before thrusting them back inside of you. His lips roamed over your neck, kissing, nipping, and sucking every inch of bare skin.

You couldn’t hold back, letting go with a startled cry, coming so hard your back arched, your hands clamping down on the back of Bucky’s neck, your hips bucking as you ground against his fingers, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you. He held you, working you through the orgasm, kissing you breathless.

“I want you,” Bucky rasped, his voice thick with need.

You nodded, your entire body trembling with your newly awakened desire for him. You couldn’t deny that you wanted him, too. You’d wanted him since he’d walked through your hotel room door.

The next thing you knew, you were standing in the middle of the bedroom, Bucky just inches away from you, hunger in his eyes.

“Bucky?”

He took a step closer, closing the distance to nothing, his body flush against yours, his arousal obvious. “I need you, Y/N, I literally need you. My mouth is watering just looking at you. I need to taste you, run my hands over every inch of your body, and god damn it, doll, I am aching to be inside of you.” He pressed his mouth to yours, biting and sucking at your lower lip until your mouth opened and then his tongue was in your mouth, tasting, exploring.

You swallowed thickly, nodding like you were some kind of bobble-headed doll, your arms sliding around his waist, stepping into him, wanting to become one with him, anything to appease the desire running rampant through your body.

Bucky tore at your clothes, pulling them from your body as he pushed you backwards, easily removing them and tossing them aside. He lowered you to the bed, nuzzling your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth, his metal hand cupped around your sex, his thumb circling your clit. He used his knee to push your legs apart, his hands running up and down your thighs, his body seeming to vibrate with his need for you. He trailed kisses down your stomach, stopping when he reached the swollen nub of nerves, his tongue darting out and flicking it.

Your hands clenched the blanket beneath you and your hips came off the bed, an ungodly moan leaving you. It set something off in Bucky, a monstrous growl flew out of him and then he buried himself between your legs, his tongue deep inside of you, his nose brushing your clit. When your hips rose off the bed a second time, he pushed you down, holding you in place while he devoured you. He was relentless, his tongue repeatedly licking up and down your folds, flattening out as he swept it across your clit. He pushed a finger in alongside his tongue, moving them in tandem. You grabbed his head, holding him tight against you, needy whimpers the only sounds you could make as Bucky’s tongue worked its magic.

Every inch of you was trembling, heat blasting through your body, your breath tearing in and out of your throat, and you still hadn’t come. It had been so long since you’d felt anything like this, so long since you’d had Bucky between your legs, fucking you into oblivion. The sensations rolling through you were unbelievable.

“Bucky, please,” you gasped. “I-I need to…” Your words were cut off as his finger suddenly moved, crooking just right, and you were gone. You squeezed your eyes shut as pure bliss blasted through you, every nerve ending screaming in ecstasy, the whole world narrowed to what Bucky was doing to you with his mouth and fingers.

When he finally moved away, you were a boneless mess, barely able to move. Bucky was on his feet, hurriedly stripping out of his clothes, his cock standing at attention, curving up against his tight stomach muscles. He picked you up effortlessly, planted a bruising kiss on your mouth, then he flipped you to your stomach and crawled back onto the bed. He pulled you to your knees, one arm around your waist, and then he was entering you from behind, slamming into you with a loud grunt. He bottomed out and then he was moving, his hips pumping relentlessly.

“Fuck, yes,” Bucky growled. Both of his arms were around you, one hand resting on your stomach, the other on your breast, pinching and twisting the nipple as he thrust into you. He set a bruising pace, slamming into you repeatedly, each stroke stronger and deeper than the last.

You hadn’t thought it was possible, not after the two orgasms he’d already pulled out of you, but you once again felt the familiar tightening in your stomach as Bucky’s thrusts became harder and more erratic. He pushed you forward until you were resting on your elbows, his hands on your hips. The angle was perfect, every thrust hitting your g-spot, pushing you almost immediately over the edge, screaming Bucky’s name as you came.

But he didn’t let up, his hips pistoning as he pumped in and out of you, skin slapping against skin, and then he was coming with a feral snarl, his cock twitching and pulsing as he emptied himself into you, his hands gripping you so tight you could feel the bruises forming.

You collapsed to the bed, Bucky sprawled across your back. He sucked at your neck, marking you, his hands running up and down your body, as if he was memorizing every inch of you. You sighed, your fingers twisting in the sheets as a rush of emotion overwhelmed you.

You still loved him. You’d never stopped.

* * *

Bucky sat in the dark living room, hours after Y/N had fallen asleep, staring into the dark. His gun and his phone were on the table next to him. One hand rested on the scar on his right shoulder, the scar where the bullet fired by Y/N had entered him. It had never healed properly, despite the super soldier serum running through his veins. It was a constant reminder of the life he lived, a reminder that he could never have, _would_  never have the things others took for granted.

He shouldn’t have let her get under his skin, shouldn’t have touched her, shouldn’t have taken her the way he had. He wasn’t meant to have love, wasn’t meant to be with anyone, not after the things he’d done, the people he’d hurt during his years as the Winter Soldier. Love wasn’t in the books for someone like him.

He couldn’t let it happen again. His job, his _mission_  was to keep her safe. He couldn’t lose sight of that. He wouldn’t touch her again.

His phone vibrated on the table beside him. He scooped it up. It was Steve.

_One hour out. Be ready._

Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Time to move.


	3. Part Three

 

“Bucky?” You pushed yourself up on one elbow, the sheet clutched in your hand between your breasts, barely covering you.

Your clothes landed on the bed beside you. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “We’re leaving.”

“Wh-what?”

“Cap’ll be here in less than an hour,” he explained. “We’re moving.”

“Where are we going?” you asked.

Bucky didn’t answer, he just pulled on his shirt and grabbed his jacket off the floor. He tossed a glance your way over his shoulder, then he was gone. A few seconds later you heard the water running in the kitchen, as well as cupboards opening and closing.

You dragged yourself out of bed, pulled on your clothes, and pushed a hand through your sex-mussed hair. Once you were dressed, you took a seat, afraid to venture out to the kitchen, afraid to see Bucky, to talk to Bucky. You’d heard it in his voice - even after all of these years you knew him as well as he knew himself. What had happened between the two of you the night before would not happen again. Regret had been dripping from every word he’d spoken and he’d refused to look in your eyes.

You squeezed your eyes closed, your head dropping into your hands, a shudder working its way through you. There had to be a way to fix this, to make him understand that you’d been an idiot for believing he could kill you. His love for you had been just as strong as yours had been for him. Except your fear had let you convince yourself that HYDRA would turn him against you, and once that idea was planted, you had been unable to turn away from it. Because you’d believed the lie, you’d destroyed everything. You weren’t sure you could ever get it back.

But that wasn’t going to stop you from trying.

Resolved to not fuck it up again, you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way out of the bedroom, cutting through the living room and directly into the kitchen. Bucky was standing at the counter, a steaming mug clutched in one hand. He was staring out the window over the sink.

You leaned against the counter beside him, your hand resting on his arm. He flinched, but he didn’t pull away. He still wouldn’t look at you.

“Bucky, don’t do this,” you murmured. “Don’t push me away.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Y/N -”

You didn’t let him finish, instead you cut him off, pushing up on your toes, your hand moving to cup his cheek, your lips on his. At first, you didn’t think he’d kiss you back, but after just a second, his lips moved against yours, a resigned sigh coming from him. His hand came up, circling your waist, drawing you closer.

Bucky’s gun was out before the knock had stopped echoing through the small cabin. He pushed you behind him, his gun pointed at the door, a terrifying snarl leaving him.

“Bucky? Open up!”

“Shit, it’s Steve,” he said, releasing you and striding across the room. He stopped in front of the door, pulled the curtain back an inch or so, and peered out. A smile spread across his face as he flipped the lock and opened the door.

Captain America - Steve Rogers - stepped through the door, took Bucky’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug. Behind him was the Falcon. You’d never met either man and standing in a room with Bucky, Captain America, and the Falcon was a bit overwhelming. They were huge, taking up every inch of available space in the small cabin. You felt incredibly small beside the three Avengers.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” Captain Rogers extended his hand, taking yours and giving it a quick shake. He introduced the Falcon to you, who insisted you call him Sam, and then he apologized for all the trouble, as if it was a minor inconvenience rather than a fight for your life. You supposed for someone who had been frozen for seventy years, taken down HYDRA, and fought aliens from outer space, keeping you safe  _ was _  a mild inconvenience.

You sat in the corner of the couch, listening as the three men discussed an evacuation plan. They were taking you to Colorado, of all places, to a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house that had not been compromised. From there you would be transferred somewhere where no one would ever find you. From what Captain Rogers was saying, not even the Avengers would know where you were. Witness protection for the rest of your life.

“Five minutes,” Steve said.

“I’ll get my things,” you mumbled, pushing yourself to your feet and hurrying into the other room. You shut the door and peeled off the sweatshirt and sweatpants, folding them neatly and putting them on the bed. You pulled your clothes off the radiator where you’d left them to dry and tugged them on. You were putting your shoes on when you heard the quiet click of the door closing. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Bucky was standing behind you.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m great,” you snapped. “Nothing like listening to people you barely know planning out the rest of your life -”

“They’re trying to protect you, Y/N,” Bucky replied. “Keep you safe.”

You leapt to your feet and darted across the room, coming to stop in front of the super soldier. “You could protect me. You could keep me safe. That’s all I need. You.”

Bucky shook his head. “My mission is to keep you safe. Once you’re in Colorado, my job is over.”

“I’m not asking you to do a job, Bucky,” you sighed. “I’m asking you to stay with me. Stay with me and keep me safe. Please.” You reached for him, but he took a step back, making your heart double clutch in your chest.

“I can’t, Y/N,” he said. “You know that.” He absentmindedly rubbed the spot on his chest, the spot where the bullet you’d shot had entered him. “Last night was a...it...it can’t happen again. It was a momentary lapse in judgment. One that won’t happen again.” He cleared his throat and took a step backwards. “We’re ready to go.” He disappeared back through the door.

“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled.

 


	4. Part Four

 

“Jet?” you heard Bucky ask as you came out of the bedroom.

“No,” Captain Rogers shook his head. “We’ve got a car stashed about a mile up the road. We’re gonna grab that and head for a small airport about an hour out. There’s a quinjet there, fueled and ready to go.”

“Why not just take the jet that’s here?” you asked.

“FRIDAY thinks it’s compromised. Said it may have a tracker on it,” he replied.

“So how come HYDRA hasn’t shown yet?” was your next question. It seemed ridiculous to you that they wouldn’t have come to take you out, not if they knew where you were.

“That’s a question we don’t have an answer to,” Rogers shrugged. “But one we’re not waiting to get the answer to. Let’s go.”

You followed Captain Rogers out the door with Bucky right behind you. Overhead, Falcon kept a watchful eye. You felt safe. Sort of.

Ten minutes later, you were in the car, stuck in the back seat with Bucky, turned away from him, staring out the window. You desperately wanted to reach over and take his hand, if only to reassure yourself, but he had his arms crossed and he was stoically avoiding your eyes. You bit your lip and willed yourself not to get emotional.

The drive to the airport took an hour, just as Captain Rogers had said. It was a small airport, private, according to Sam, out of the way, not likely to be on HYDRA’s radar. Roger’s parked the car inside a huge hangar, beside a quinjet marked with S.H.I.E.L.D. symbols.

“That’s not obvious or anything,” you muttered.

Bucky shot an irritated glance your way. “Get over it, princess,” he snapped. “It’s all we’ve got.”

You climbed out of the car, sandwiching yourself between Bucky and Sam. Rogers ran ahead to the jet, jogging up the ramp and inside. You didn’t see anything and it seemed as if the men keeping you safe were a bit more relaxed. For once, you thought maybe you might be safe.

“Your chariot awaits,” Sam chuckled, stopping at the bottom of the ramp, gesturing for you to go on board.

You giggled, shaking your head. You were three steps up the ramp when the first shot hit you.

* * *

Y/N didn’t even scream, she just hit the ramp, rolling down it to land at Bucky’s feet. Blood covered her, leaking from a gunshot wound in her shoulder. Bucky dropped to his knees beside her, another bullet flying past his head.

“Steve!” he yelled, grabbing Y/N by arm and dragging her behind the jet.

“Sam?” Steve came charging down the ramp, shield raised.

“On it, Cap,” Sam said, taking to the air.

“Bucky?”

“She’s got a gunshot wound to the shoulder,” he replied, glancing down at the woman by his feet.

Two more gunshots rang out, one pinging off the jet just above Steve’s head this time. He ducked, hitting the ground and coming to a stop next to Bucky.

“Sam, what do you see?” Steve asked.

“One shooter, Cap,” Sam responded. “Going in now.”

Gunfire filled both communicators, cut off, then started again. Steve took off at a dead run, heading toward the trees north of the airport.

“Bucky, stay with Y/N,” he called over his shoulder.

He kneeled beside her, his fingers pressed to her throat, checking for a pulse. It was there, weak, but discernible. He yanked his jacket off, haphazardly folded it and pressed it to her wound, ironically in the same spot as the one she had given him so many years ago.

“Buck -” she whispered.

“I’m right here, doll,” he answered.

“Hurts,” she coughed, a trickle of blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth. “H-hurts to breathe…”

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered under his breath. The bullet must have nicked her lung. He needed to get her help, as soon as possible.

He pressed the communicator in his ear. “Cap?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Y/N’s losing blood fast, think her lung got nicked by the bullet. We need to get her out of her ASAP.” He scooped her up, her head lolling against his chest. “Is it clear to put her on the jet?”

“We’re on it,” Sam said. “Get her onboard. We’ll meet you there.”

Bucky ran up the ramp with Y/N clutched in his arms. He gently laid her on the full length seat in the rear of the jet, then he ran back down the ramp, gun drawn. More gunfire erupted, coming from the trees, so that was the direction he ran.

* * *

Everything was pain, overwhelming, unbelievable, excruciating pain. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but try not to scream too loud as wave after wave of pain washed over you.

You felt the jet take off, felt the shift as it left the ground and rose into the air. You could hear Sam and Bucky talking, or maybe they were yelling, you weren’t sure. One of them picked you up and laid you across a cold, hard surface, another ripped your shirt off and tossed it to the floor. A needle plunged into your arm and ice water seemed to fill your veins, then the pain dulled, though it did not disappear. You could only watch as Bucky and Sam moved around, Sam handing things to Bucky while he hovered over you, pressing at the wound on your chest, muttering under his breath. You tried to speak, to say something, anything, but your mouth wouldn’t work, words wouldn’t come.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually Bucky wrapped several rolls of gauze around your shoulder, overkill most likely, but you didn’t care, not at that point. He covered you, tucking two or three blankets around you. Overkill, again, but probably smart, considering you might go into shock. Once he had you comfortable, or as comfortable as you were going to get, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and headed for the front of the jet.

You dozed off and on, only vaguely aware of what was going on around you. You didn’t come fully awake until you felt the jet dropping in altitude. Once you felt the jet hit the ground, you tried to sit up, groaning loudly when you failed, bringing Bucky running to the back of the jet.

“Hey, hey,” he mumbled, “take it easy.” He eased an arm beneath you, hugging you to his chest.

“What happened?” you muttered. “Where are we?”

“We’re in Colorado,” he said, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. “And you got shot.”

“I know that,” you sighed. “Who did it? Was it HYDRA?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But it’s over.”

“What did you -”

“I said it’s over,” he cut you off. “Natasha is gonna get you out of here, get you someplace safe, where they can’t hurt you again.”

“I don’t want to go without you,” you murmured.

“Y/N, we talked about this,” Bucky sighed. “I’m not good for you. You’re not good for me. We’re poisonous when we’re together -”

“People can change,” you whispered. “We could change.”

The only response was a brief shake of his head, then he was carrying you down the ramp and putting you in a huge black van. He didn’t get in with you, just slammed the door and walked away.

* * *

You were in Colorado for six weeks, recovering. Bucky was around, though you didn’t see him much. You spent most of your time with Natasha and Sharon Carter, the two of them using your HYDRA expertise to ferret out their undercover agents.

Once you were healthy enough to travel, your wounds nearly healed, arrangements were made to move you. Your location was so secretive, they wouldn’t even tell you where you were going.

You were packing the few meager belongings you had, preparing yourself to leave, when there was a knock on your door.

“Yeah?”

The door opened a few inches and Bucky stuck his head. “Got a minute?” he said.

“S-sure,” you stammered. “Come on in.”

He closed the door quietly behind him and leaned against it. “You’re leaving today?”

You nodded, gnawing on your lower lip, afraid if you tried to say anything you would burst into tears. You folded the last sweater from the closet and dropped it into your duffle bag. Unsure what to do with yourself, you sat on the edge of the chair, twisting your hands together in your lap.

Bucky crossed the room and sat on the footstool in front of the chair. You stared at your hands and he stared at some spot just above your shoulder. The only sound in the room was the air being pulled in and out of your lungs. You wanted nothing more than to fall to your knees and beg Bucky to change his mind, to go with you, to forgive you for what you’d done. You loved him and you wanted a chance to prove it.

“Bucky -”

“I know what you’re gonna say Y/N,” he interrupted you. “But, I haven’t changed my mind. I loved you, once, a long time ago, and maybe I could love you again. Shit, maybe I still love you. But, I’m not sure I could ever trust you again. You were the first person I’d loved in a long time, the first person I’d trusted. I loved you. I thought you loved me. I was wrong.”

“I did love you, Bucky.” The tears you’d been trying to hold back were sliding down your cheeks.

“Not enough,” he shook his head. “You didn’t love me enough to believe in me, to believe I wouldn’t hurt you. That’s what I can’t get past. Your love wasn’t strong enough to push past the horror of the Winter Soldier, wasn’t enough to believe that I could change, that the killer they locked inside of me wasn’t really me. And if the woman I love can’t believe in me, how can I believe in myself?”

Bucky dropped to his knees in front of you, cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs resting on your cheeks. He kissed you, soft, gentle, his longing for you evident with every swipe of his tongue across your lips. You put your hands on his and returned the kiss, sobbing.

When he released you, there were tears on his cheeks. He kissed you one last time, just a brush of his lips over yours, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The quiet click of the door closing was the loudest sound you’d ever heard.


End file.
